LogFAQs > #884275349

*Strife appears in his workshop, creating taybles made with various forms of spikes, nails, sharp corners, and other deathtraps. He breathes in deeply before speaking*

Fate makes fools of us all. In past lives, pain would not subside. Death it seems would not take me. I returned to this foul, disease-ridden place, hoping to find some meaning to an unending existence. I happened upon a grave of iron and wood. Inside was a small trinket, hoping to bloom flowers, so sinister and sweet. It only wanted attention…so I carried it to my hollow garden. This place. It transformed itself into my new home. It imbued me with power, as gratitude for salvation. Those who tried to steal it away, either by force or subterfuge, were met by my cold, trembling hands. One by one, they all fell, and I feel I gave meaning where no one else could. One could say I was even “happy” to find purpose in the destruction.

So Fate decided to rear Her disfigured face in my path. She saw I couldn’t be stopped, and decided to end UCA’s world. Just as I had found some purpose, it is only now a death sentence is placed upon me. What is a man to do, knowing his time is finally ending? Fate decided She would tempt me with a choice: face the one man who destroyed my dream of creating a temple of salvation, or continue to challenge suitors in the neverending game of pain I created.

Despite the powers and bliss it showed to me, I grow so tired of this. So weary of this obligation that chokes my essence yet won’t let me stop breathing. The most dangerous game, no matter how exciting, seems moot when time is running short. I seek repentance, hope, and a dream in the face of disaster. Despite my best intentions, I must lay waste to this place, with its memories driving me forward.

*Strife stops working, grabs the Masters of Taybles title, and leaves the workshop. He grabs an axe and begins to chop at the foundation, until it weakens, shakes, and crumbles into pieces. He leaves the MoT title next to the wreckage*

DAVID!…you were the only one strong enough to survive my best laid plans. You caused me grievous harm, and destroyed my dream. But I have nothing left now. Nothing except the memories that caused me such pain. But unlike before, I do not have to venture into your home. Your nightmare is of your own creation. I cannot wait to see how you tighten the noose around your neck. You have to choose someone to torture you, while knowing I am still standing in your way. That is more than enough to satisfy me. See what I gave up to get that opportunity? All to see your choking, gasping, retching body twist in the wind? If Fate has permitted me to die, the least I can do is make sure you go first.
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"Misguided mortals, you'll burn with me! Spirit of man cannot be freed!" - Black Sabbath, When Death Calls